


hold me tighter, hold me close

by yogurtgun



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clubbing, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 14:42:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16327958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yogurtgun/pseuds/yogurtgun
Summary: Hux and Phasma go to a club to celebrate Phasma's birthday. After being left behind by his friend, Hux meets Kylo Ren.





	hold me tighter, hold me close

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeated.

Hux isn’t a person made for clubbing. Rather than going through the whole torturous process of waiting in line, spending exorbitant amounts of money, and ending up in the same Waffle House as all the other patrons around him. He prefers to sit at a bar alone and talk with the bartender until someone approaches him, or, in most cases, go sit next to someone, pay for a couple of drinks, chat them up, and end the night in their bed. 

However, it’s Phasma’s birthday. She’s someone who lives for raves and dance pits, getting high and getting drunk and jumping in one place or headbanging, getting gross and sweaty with twenty other strangers around her. She’s his best friend, so she knows there’s no feasible way for him to go with her to one of those events. They make a compromise. 

As far as clubs go, it’s a decent establishment; Hux had made Phasma pick something reasonably expensive and sensibly close to their apartment, because if he knows anything it’s that she will eventually end up shoeless, no matter how expensive her Jimmy Choos are. 

They arrive early, or what at least stands for early when it comes to clubs. Phasma explains to him that most people think it’s ‘lame’ to do that, but she also wants him to get comfortable with the space before it gets filled up with people. She also starts him on Scotch which, if nothing else, ensures his begrudging cooperation for anything else she plans on doing. 

There are booths near the walls, private tables that are separate from tall tables by a short flight of stairs. Another descent from there is the dance floor and the bar -- a long stretch of stainless steel decorated only by black rubber spill mats. 

The wall behind the bar has shelves that form loose square patterns. They house strategically placed overpriced bottles of alcohol that Hux is certain are just props, surrounded by neon-blue light sticks. They’re the only constantly visible things, Hux realises, after the music starts and the rotating club lights begin their irritating blue-purple-red rotations.

Phasma’s dressed in a criminally short golden dress that shows off her long legs, hair slicked back, and makeup masterfully applied. It’s the first time he’s seen her dressed like this. Usually, she’s wearing suits or pants and long tunics; job clothes as she calls them. 

Hux had tried going all out but Phasma had turned him around the moment she’d appeared at his doors to pick him up. He’d been in a triple-piece suit.

“No, dear,” she’d said, laughing. “Wear something you won’t regret messing up.”

It’s how, despite his attempts, Hux finds himself wearing black jeans and a thin charcoal sweater. They were the only things that he didn’t wear very often, and didn’t care for, that Phasma approved of. He’s grateful for it, once the club fills up and the temperature rises. 

The music is thunderous. It’s not exactly as if they were sitting in silence before, but it was a background sort of tune that Hux could ignore. Now, the bass is strong enough that Hux feels it instead of the rhythm of his heart, pulsing at the back of his throat and in his ears. 

To his surprise he knows the songs. He’s heard them blasted from the bathroom whenever Phasma was in there, and he even likes some of them. He feels himself at first tapping to the rhythm until he’s plied with enough alcohol to be convinced to go dance. Since they’d reserved a private table there’s no chance of it getting stolen, and so Hux goes, downing his last glass of Scotch quickly, before being dragged off.

He feels the burn of it going down his throat as Phasma pushes her way through the mass of twisting, dancing bodies until they’re in the eye of the storm. From his previous vantage point the people appeared funny to him. However, feeling the floor vibrate underneath his feet, now Hux begins to understand the compulsion to move. 

Another song he likes starts playing and though he’s never really been a fan of it, he starts dancing to the tune. He’s drunk enough to not care what he looks like, drunk enough to let his limbs be loose and to sway, and to not care about the strangers he’s bumping against. He can still hear Phasma’s laugh, see her delight in the half-dark just as a blue beam lands on her forehead.

Perhaps if Hux were alone he wouldn’t like it. But being with Phasma makes it so easy to loosen up, to laugh back, to empty his mind and just be another swaying body in the mix. Perhaps it’s Phasma, or it’s the alcohol, or it’s him finding joy in the fact that he hasn’t got to worry about the way he looks or dances because nobody is looking at him or they don’t care, that he allows himself to lose a bit of time. It’s not that he passes out, he’s firmly standing on two feet and dancing. It’s just that he forgets, in a handful of beautiful moments, to be tied down by the clock and all its terms and conditions.

Somewhere between Phasma’s smile and his realisation that he’s actually liking this, he’s closed his eyes. Now that he pries them open to another twirl of the colourful beam lights, she’s gone and he’s alone. 

It’s definitely the alcohol that keeps him from rushing from the dance floor. He cranes his head, tries to find his friend. She’s a head taller than most people, it shouldn’t be a problem to find her, but he fails. Instead, with another twirl of lights, his sight falls onto a man not two elbow lengths from him, red light colouring his eyes and forehead.

He’s got long black hair carelessly brushing his shoulders that are covered with a thin short sleeved shirt, sleeves stretched wide around his biceps. He’s tall, big, awakening every one of Hux’s appetites. He even seems to be enjoying clubbing as much as Hux is. 

In a terrible maddening moment, as if he’s sensed someone’s gaze on him, the man turns and catches Hux’s eye. The red light seems to linger on him. Dark eyes and a strong brow juxtapose his soft lip, but the intensity of his gaze decides the severity of his face.

The song goes on, lights spill over people between them. Hux is suddenly very aware of the screaming and laughing people around him, the fact that he’s stopped dead in the middle of the dance floor, and that the man is moving toward him. Hux has seen him, true, but Hux has been seen as well. 

Hux doesn’t know what to do, and it’s already too late to decide. Very suddenly, the man is in front of him, his large hand warm on Hux’s hip. He pulls Hux forward and into his personal space, and Hux lets him. He watches, somewhat mesmerised, how the man pushes a hand through his dark hair, pulling it away from his eyes. Then, he bends down, pressing his lips to Hux’s ear. 

“Hi, I’m Kylo. What’s your name?” he says, and he pulls back just enough to catch Hux’s eye.

“Hux,” Hux replies as loudly as he can. 

That’s when he realises he really is drunk. He feels numbness in his teeth. For some reason he’s so amused by this that by the time Kylo pulls back to look at him, he’s smiling. 

Kylo smiles back at him, and guides Hux’s hip until they’re dancing again. 

It’s difficult to think of anything else now that Hux has Kylo in front of him. Hux has always had a thing for broad shoulders and developed chest. He has always wanted large hands on him to make him small, compact. They’re almost of a height but it doesn’t matter; he feels as if Kylo could pick him up and carry him out and not even break a sweat. The heat wafting off of his body is dizzying; he’s like a furnace and Hux suddenly wishes he could touch his skin to make sure.

He’s also awfully good at dancing though, after initial doubt, it’s more grinding than anything else.

This is not a good idea. There’s a reason Hux prefers bars, prefers peers. Yes, Kylo would have turned his head anywhere but Hux would not have had any notions of approaching him. Now, however, he’s free to wrap his hands around his neck, to let them slide down his firm back and down his arms, feeling the firm muscle that’s barely wrapped in any fabric at all. 

Kylo laughs and lets him do it. Hux watches how the man smiles, feeling the hand on his hip tightening around him. Kylo’s broad hand is splayed in the middle of his back between his shoulder blades, and he feels it pass across his ribs and down to his belly. Feeling, nothing more. Hux wants it to do more.

Usually, when it comes to sex Hux is clinical. There’s a place and a time to be touched, and to touch, and a vacuum of time and space that will later be thrown out of his memory as unimportant necessity. Hux likes sex but he doesn’t crave it. He’s a private person, he’s reserved, controlled. 

There’s nothing controlled about the way his breath shudders and he feels his attraction spark. Nothing reserved about the way he presses himself against Kylo, from thighs to hips and chest, nothing private about the way his lips press against Kylo’s neck, under his ear. 

Both of Kylo’s hands are around his hips then, and they sway only to rub against each other. His breath ghosts over Hux’s neck, his laugh evident only by the way his Adam’s apple bobs; a faint sound reverberating across Hux’s skin. 

Hux feels it again when he moves to his jaw, but it’s short now, perhaps startled. He isn’t pushed away, quite the opposite. Kylo’s hands spasm where they hold him, and then they move to cup his ass. Hux jerks, feels his cock twitch in his pants. He’s ridiculously excited about his prospects.

He holds Kylo’s face between his hands and moves away enough to turn his head to kiss him. He feels the groan vibrate against his lips, feels hardness against his hip. He would have smirked had he a different reaction. As it is he only presses closer. They break apart but not for long. Kylo simply looks at him before he’s kissing him again.

It feels like hours pass between one kiss and the other. Ironically, he feels timelessness with Kylo’s hands on him, despite the incessant speed of the music’s beat, refusing to be forgotten. The people around them have given them enough space, singling them out and choosing to ignore them. Still, he knows they won’t be able to get away with this much longer, and Hux isn’t enraptured by the idea of being thrown out, or worse, charged with public indecency. 

When Hux pulls back he realises he has his hand in Kylo’s hair. He trails his fingers through it, squeezes the back of his neck for a long moment and is rewarded by a shuddering breath against his neck. Hux continues his path then, trailing his fingers over Kylo’s back, down his bicep until he can grab a hold of Kylo’s hand. 

Hux can see the disappointment flash across Kylo’s face when he steps back but Hux just gives him a look in hopes he’ll understand and tugs him in the general vicinity of the tables. The moment they’re free of the crowd Kylo’s hand wraps around his waist and Hux has to stop. Though terrible, he loves it, and he gathers himself long enough to point out the table to Kylo. The man comprehends a moment later.

They head there, and Hux is surprised to find that Phasma hasn’t returned yet. The bottle of Scotch is still there but Hux ignores it for the man whose hand he’s still holding. 

“Sit,” he says to Kylo, though it’s barely audible from the music. 

Kylo does it anyways, and the moment he’s seated Hux is sliding astride his legs. He feels Kylo’s reaction against his ass, the way his hands lay on his thighs and squeeze. 

“Jesus wept,” Hux curses when Kylo looks up at him, lifting his chin in a clear signal he wishes to be kissed. Unable to disobey, Hux kisses him, before Kylo can decide that this has all been a terrible mistake. 

He starts moving his hips like before, and he feels one of Kylo’s hand on his ass again. The other has slipped underneath the back of his jumper. Hux is guilty of this as well, hands touching Kylo’s ridiculously developed abdomen. 

When he pulls away he feel heady and dizzy and wonderfully wanted. He knows they can’t do more than this here, even this is going beyond certain boundaries. 

He really isn’t sure where Phasma is or whom with, or even if she’s in the club at all. Furthermore, there is an agreement that they have when it comes to people in their home, and it’s usually restricted to civil conversation in the living room during brief, necessary visits. 

Despite all that, Hux still hears himself ask, “Want to go to mine’s?”

“Yeah,” Kylo replies. 

Hux feels heat pool inside his head, excitement and eagerness threatening to take over. He reigns them in as he slips from Kylo’s lap to grab his coat. His phone’s still there, a minor miracle, and he sees texts from Phasma on it. Like a good friend, she’s decided to inform him that she’s paid the tab, picked someone up, and that she’s going to proceed to have her birthday sex since Hux refuses to volunteer. 

He replies with affirmative, before he deposits his phone inside his coat again. He slips into it, and catches Kylo watching him. It’s a strange look, curious. Hux cocks his eyebrow but Kylo simply shakes his head before leaning over. 

“I’m going to grab my jacket, and wait for you outside,” Kylo says into his ear. 

He proceeds to stand, suddenly towering over Hux. Then he turns to walk back to the dance floor, though something catches his attention at the last moment. He does a double take, before he grabs the bottle of Scotch from the table. He swirls the amber liquid inside it, catching Hux’s eye as he does it, and smiles. Then he walks off with it in hand. 

Hux watches him go, can’t help himself. He can’t believe he’s taking that to bed. He isn’t sure if it’s the best or worst decision of his life, so he takes out his phone to text Phasma but stops himself at the last moment. He doesn’t know what to send and as far as he knows, before Kylo is in his bed, he’s not really scored much of anything. 

He walks through the club and out of it, where cold air covers his overheated body, and shocks his senses enough that he shivers completely. He moves away from the line at the doors and the security, but he doesn’t see Kylo anywhere. Panic and disappointment intermingle, all the while, a rational part in his mind tells him he ought to wait for a couple of minutes, before deciding he’s been ditched. Hux turns and suddenly he’s there, nose to nose with him, and he feels terrible, tiny palpitations inside his chest.

Kylo has, for all intents and purposes of being quite contrary, instead of a predictable leather jacket, donned on a fitting black pea-coat that Hux recognizes as something he’s seen in Burberry his last shopping trip with Phasma. He still has the bottle of Scotch in his now gloved hand.

Hux feels unreasonably nervous about all this which is probably the reason why, when he feels Kylo’s hand around his waist, he suddenly feels as if he can breathe again. Though he shouldn’t -- he’s always hated public displays of attraction or affection -- he leans into Kylo and kisses him right there on the street. He’s pulled in immediately, Kylo’s lips soft and wet and pliable. 

It takes a while for Kylo to pull back and even then, he barely mouths, “Taxi?” against his lips, before he’s leaning in again. 

Hux loses the train of thought for a bit until he remembers they’re standing on the street, in front of a club, with a line full of people who are probably staring. 

“My apartment is two blocks away,” Hux explains. 

Surprisingly, that makes Kylo straighten up. Though he doesn’t really step away since they’re pressed to each other in a more intimate manner than sober him would have appreciated, Hux still feels strangely despondent for it. 

The man’s heavy arm refuses to let him go however, when he says, “We should take my bike.”

“You have a motorcycle?” Hux raises an eyebrow. 

“I do,” Kylo replies, lip curling in good humour. “So, how about it?”

Hux thinks that drinking and driving is ridiculously dangerous. Furthermore, if he dies on the way to some incredible sex, he doesn’t think anything would stop Phasma from laughing at him, not even at his funeral. 

He has enough sense left to put a hand on Kylo’s chest and say, “I’m not dying tonight, thank you very much.”

That seems to coerce another laugh from Kylo. Even he seems startled by himself. He doesn’t try and railroad Hux into accepting the ride either. Instead he simply takes his phone out and start tapping it with the focus of a person still unused to the lack of physical buttons. Then he looks up at Hux, serious expression still lingering on his features.

It makes Hux’s legs weak, and he’s thankful that Kylo still has a hand around him. 

“A car will be here to pick us up in a couple of minutes,” Kylo explains. 

He puts away his phone and uses his free hand to lift Hux’s chin up, so he can plant a kiss on his lips.

True to his word, a black Mercedes pulls up and they spill into the backseat before anyone can claim it as their own uber. Hux gives the address and Kylo pulls out a twenty despite knowing that the ride won’t cost that much.

Kylo offers him a swing from the bottle of Scotch he’s opened, and Hux takes a long drink from it before passing it to Kylo who mimics his actions. 

The driver simply glances at them for the whole ride, before stopping in front of Hux’s building complex. Hux tries to be as elegant stepping out of the car as he can, but he’s still drunk and the Scotch didn’t help any. 

He manages to get to the building doors because he’s leaning against Kylo. His hand barely shakes when he unlocks them, but he almost drops his keys twice when he’s crowded into the elevator, pressed into a corner, and kissed until his lungs protest the lack of air. Even when Kylo pulls back he doesn’t stop entirely, not even when Hux reaches a hand out to press the button for the fifth floor. He simply kisses Hux’s cheek, jaw, rubs a thumb at the bottom of Hux’s lip, eyes going dark. 

The elevator dings and the doors slide open once they reach his floor. Hux has to grip Kylo’s hand tightly to signal him to stop, and they somehow manage to get in front of the proper doors, before he’s crowding Hux again.

How he gets the key in the lock is a mystery considering the distraction, and he’s infinitely glad that the doors auto-lock behind them. 

Hux switches the lights on and hangs his greatcoat at the foyer, toing off his shoes. Kylo seems to mimic him. Hux likes that. He also likes that he gives Hux space to turn on the lights in the living room, to turn around and offer him a drink. To try, at least, to gather any semblance of control he can.

“I have one,” Kylo replies, shaking the bottle pointedly.

Hux rolls his eyes. “From a glass.”

The living room isn’t a mess only because it had been his turn to straighten up, though he knows the clothes Phasma had made him take off still lie unhanged on his bed. The first time he has company over, it seems, is also the first time he has his room messy. 

But, thankfully, Kylo doesn’t seem like the type to care about those things.

Hux tries to take a few calming breaths, to collect what little rationality he has. They could have stumbled to his room immediately, of course, but he needs a couple of moments for himself. He needs a pause so he can take control of the situation that’s spiralling slowly into a form of controlled chaos. 

Kylo sits on the couch after Hux offers him a seat. He spreads his long legs before him and cocks his head in an inviting sort of way. Hux realizes then he’s standing in the middle of the living room, near the bar and staring. 

He takes two empty tumbler glasses regardless of the fact that they will go unused and puts them on the living room table. And though he knows he shouldn’t, that there should be a civil conversation first instead, boundaries set, rules, perhaps more drinking before getting him in his room, Hux walks over to Kylo and slides onto his lap just like he did in the club.

“That’s hot,” Kylo says, and takes a swing from the opened Scotch bottle before offering it to Hux. 

He’s never drank straight from the bottle before tonight. Hux takes it and does just that. He thinks he might like it.

The liquid burns less than before, and Hux feels it settling in his gut, warming him from inside out. He also feels Kylo’s fingers drawing shapes into the skin above his hip, rising gooseflesh there, and Hux feels himself grinding his hips with Kylo’s. 

Kylo is still wonderfully hard under him. He remains motionless, watching Hux, touch turning harder until Hux is certain there will be finger-shaped bruises later. His eyes are completely dark when he sits up. He very carefully puts down the Scotch on the living room table, before he presses a hand to Hux’s cheek and leads him down into a kiss. 

Immediately, Hux has his hand in Kylo’s hair. Every so often, their hips grind together. Now that they’re both hard it’s more painful that it has been before, but Kylo’s kisses are a distraction from it. He’s ridiculously turned on, so any touch has him shuddering. 

Kylo pulls back to kiss his chin, to trace his lips down to Hux’s throat, teeth near his adam’s apple. His other hand traces the back of Hux’s neck. Hux hadn’t really known he had a thing for it, but apparently tonight, he’s hell bent on trying everything new. 

He wonders, absently, if he’s going to be made to cream his pants before Kylo even has his hand around his dick. He feels dizzy and it has little to do with alcohol. Hux grinds his hips again, hands going under Kylo’s shirt. He can feel muscles shift under his touch, and he rakes his nail softly down Kylo’s chest to his navel. He feels the reaction underneath him and he kisses Kylo briefly, desperately, before he sits back up. 

“Take this off,” Hux says, sounding far more breathless than he’s intended.

Kylo is quick to obey. The shirt goes flying somewhere on the other end of the couch, exposing Kylo’s muscled chest. Without a shirt, Kylo looks even bigger than before. There’s just so much of him, so much to explore. Hux thinks it isn’t at all fair. 

Unlike what he’d imagined, Kylo’s skin is blemished with birthmarks and an odd collection of scars Hux feels are too intimate to ask about. His hands still trace over them briefly, before Kylo’s large hands are raking up his jumper and he has to take it off. Underneath it he has an undershirt, and he sees Kylo’s lip quirk. 

His hot palm slips underneath it, connecting with Hux’s sweltering skin and drawing up more heat. He loses the undershirt much quicker than he did the jumper, and then they’re pressed chest to chest, belly to belly, kissing. 

Hux’s ears are still ringing from the club. The absence of sound isn’t missed, not when all he can hear is their quick breathing, rustling of clothes, sound of skin on skin, Kylo’s soft groans and hums. 

It’s why he can hear the button of his jeans popping before he feels Kylo’s hot palm pressing into the skin of his belly, the sound of the zipper being pulled down, Kylo’s sudden touch when he takes his cock in his hand. 

Hux’s breath hitches, lips going slack against Kylo’s lips but Kylo doesn’t seem to mind. He looks at Hux, a quick searching glance before he’s biting his lip and coaxing his mouth open with his tongue. His hand starts moving, jerking him off, and Hux feels tightness in his belly before he can even reason that they really shouldn't be doing this in the living room, that Phasma will absolutely murder him, and that he still hasn’t seen Kylo’s dick.

His fingers shake when they meet the belt buckle holding Kylo’s jeans together. It doesn’t stop him from getting it open, from undoing the buttons underneath it, sliding his hand in Kylo’s underwear and pulling his cock out. He’s surprised when his hand wraps around him, and it must show on his face because Kylo’s mouth pulls into a self-satisfied smirk.

“You’re--” Hux starts, but he loses his train of thought when he imagines being spread on it. He thinks about riding Kylo, there in the living room, imagines being pounded into the cushions. It doesn’t help the fire in his belly coerced by Kylo’s hand.

Kylo is wet with precome making the slide of Hux’s hand much easier. His cock is, he thinks, quite splendid and possibly the largest thing he’s handled in his sexual history. 

Kylo’s teeth are pressed to his pulse-point before they slide down to his collar bones, to his shoulder. His hand tightens around Hux, intent behind every twist of his wrist. Hux moves his hips in tandem, breath caught in his lungs, hand that’s not around Kylo’s cock thrown around Kylo’s shoulder. 

He comes with a short gasp, thighs trembling as they squeeze around Kylo. He feels, in that moment, both satisfied and in a desperate need for more.

Kylo seems to understand this because he doesn’t stop his hand, not until Hux is whining into his mouth.

“Do you want us to do this here?” Kylo asks softly against his lips, his voice so low Hux thinks he can feel it in his own belly.

Hux needs a moment to realise what he’s being asked. They can do only so much without supplies and he realises that no, he’d rather not end his evening in the living room.

“I’d rather get fucked on a bed, thanks,” he says which earns him an amused smile.

Kylo pulls back and says, “Hold on.”

Then, with both hands under Hux’s thighs. he lifts him up and carries Hux out of the living room. His muscles strain, sure, but Kylo doesn’t look winded. Actually, he doesn’t look affected at all, and Hux wonders if he just bench-presses his weight on a regular basis.

Hux directs him to his room. The light there is turned off but the suit on the bed is still obvious. The light from outside billboards filters through the opened blinds, allowing Hux to still see Kylo’s unreasonably gorgeous face and red lips lit in a combination of neon pink and yellow. Kylo seems to have little care for the lights as well. He simply lowers Hux down on the bed before he reaches for his ankle. He stops, suddenly rigid, and looks up at Hux. 

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, hand warm where it touches Hux’s skin. 

Hux frowns before the knotted feeling in his chest seems to unravel and smooth, and once he takes another breath he realises the strange feeling that’s been holding him back was anxiety. But now that he has the option to turn away, to actually end things here, it’s the last thing he wants to do. 

“Yes. Now come on, come here,” Hux replies, the command not a command at all. It sounds too soft for it. Strangely, he’s never been accused of softness before, not even by himself. Weak, useless, but never soft. 

He isn’t sure if it’s a characteristic brought on by alcohol or by Kylo.

The hand on his ankle tugs his jean leg, and Hux lifts his hips, pushing the jeans down so Kylo can slip them off his legs along with his boxers. Then he watches the man do the same to himself, pants and underwear pooling around his legs before he steps out of them in a series of practiced moves. 

Kylo doesn’t become shy because of his nudity. In fact, he seems only to grow bolder for it. Hux finds that kind of confidence incredibly attractive. Kylo waits for Hux to climb up the bed to the headboard and follows after him, settling neatly between his legs. 

Hux is trembling with anticipation. Usually it’s not like this. Usually, he has a plan of attack and a rehearsed strategy. But it all falls to water when Kylo’s hands slide under his thighs, the weight of his body pushing Hux’s legs apart, as he bends down to kiss him. Hux pushes Kylo’s hair back behind his ear and lets his hands fall over his shoulders, bringing him even closer. 

He feels the press of Kylo’s cock against his belly and the heat of his palm on the small of his back. The other hand traces from his shoulder to his chest and presses softly over his belly. Suddenly, Kylo’s grabs his thigh and lifting it, grinding down against him. 

Hux groans, cock twitching. Kylo does it again, pressing their cocks together, letting out a harsh grunt against Hux’s lips. Hux kisses him as hard as he can. One of his hands goes to Kylo’s ass and he gives it a good squeeze which only encourages Kylo to resume. 

Heat pools in Hux’s belly like never before. It doesn’t take long until he’s realising that he could come like this, with just some heavy petting. Perhaps if he were in a different mood he would have even entertained the idea. after all, he can go a long time. But his patience is severely lacking now when it comes to Kylo. He wants him, and he wants him as much and as quickly as he can get him. Maybe that’s desperate, true, but he can care about that later. 

Hux kisses Kylo’s neck first, then presses his teeth to the soft skin, nibbling. Then he presses his tongue to the wound and laughs when he feels Kylo shiver. Kylo is ridiculously responsive to everything he does. 

“Kylo,” he says and for a moment forgets where he’s going. “How about I turn around and grab the lube, so you can actually fuck me?”

Kylo halts his hips and takes a breath. Then he’s lifting himself up, sitting on his haunches. “Sure.”

Hux huffs at the reply. He shifts onto his side and stretches his hand to reach the nightstand but very soon realises that if he wants to find everything he wants he has to turn around. He jabs an elbow into his pillow and lies onto his belly, knees denting his bed, but in a couple of moments he manages to find both the lube and condoms. 

Before he can turn back to hand Kylo the bottle, and lie on his back, he feels Kylo’s lips on his shoulder blades and his warm hands on back. It’s just soft touches, nothing more, not until Kylo’s squeezing his ass with both of his hands, spreading him. 

Hux feels his cock jump, feels a flare of heat in his belly. His cock grinds against the sheets, sparking a need within him he knows Kylo wishes to soothe. So Hux turns his head around and catches Kylo’s eye before handing him the bottle and the condoms. Then he gets his knees underneath him, just enough to lift his ass, and settles onto his belly. 

He hears a sharp inhale of breath behind him as Hux gets a pillow to hold onto. It’s to lift him up somewhat, and to make looking back over his own shoulder easier. Kylo’s mouth is still on his back and it continues a lazy stripe until it’s meeting the small of his back. Then, in a rather basic and unceremonious way, Kylo flips the cap off of the lube bottle and pours a generous amount of it into his hand. 

Hux lifts one knee closer to himself on the bed, and watches as Kylo warms the lube between his hands before he’s pressing a lubed up thumb against his hole. It’s just to rub, Hux knows that, but that doesn’t stop him from suddenly wanting it inside him. 

Kylo ticks an eyebrow when he looks at him, putting pressure against his hole, teasing. It’s an indulgence because then he moves on and has one long, pointer finger within him. Kylo’s hands are big so his fingers are thick, and Hux enjoys the stretch. He also enjoys the focus in Kylo’s face. He has one hand on Hux’s ass, holding him open and the other he pulls away just to add another finger. There’s no teasing about this, just the feeling of being stretched on supple flingers.

Hux threatens to be disappointed until those two fingers find his prostate. In his focus on Kylo, Hux has almost forgotten how turned on he was, but this reminds him. He feels himself tightening around Kylo’s fingers, feels his heartbeat quicken, breath growing shallow. Hux expects Kylo to ignore this, go on with his mechanical, practiced moves. But instead, he finds himself shaking when Kylo starts circling his fingers, putting constant pressure against his prostate, never letting off. 

He feels a telling tick in his thigh as his hips shift to grind back against Kylo’s fingers, and then into the sheets. Hux drops his head and turns forward, looking at his own hands that grip the pillow. 

It’s regretful when Kylo suddenly pulls his fingers out and he groans, feeling empty. But then he’s filled again, wider this time. He’s stretched first, fingers pressing into his walls until malleable, and then Kylo’s fingers find his prostate again, centre on it, massaging it. 

Kylo kneads the flesh of his ass with his palm softly, almost encouragingly, before his fingers trace lower to his perineum, to his balls. Hux lifts his hips, hoping Kylo’s hand wraps around his cock but it doesn’t. Instead, Kylo’s fingers inside him continue to press against his prostate, rubbing it over and over again until Hux feels himself start to leak over the sheets, mouth full of spit, toes curled up. When Kylo’s thumb puts pressure on his perineum, pinching his prostate, Hux starts to shake. 

Sounds, embarrassing and needy, escape his mouth and he decides to bite the pillow if this goes on. Hux thinks he would let Kylo plays with his ass like this whenever he wanted, it’s just that there are more pressing matters at hand. Before he can say anything, he feels Kylo shift behind him.

It seems that Kylo had a similar thought because he pulls out his fingers, and the hand on Hux’s ass disappears. The silence is deafening and within it, Hux can hear the condom wrapper being torn open. He can also hear the grunt when Kylo probably puts the condom on, the sound of more lube squeezes out of the bottle.

Hux has to turn around lest it kill him, and he catches the moment Kylo lifts himself up onto his knees. Then he’s grabbing Hux’s hips, dragging him towards him, spreading Hux’s cheeks with his thumbs. His cockhead presses against Hux’s hole and Hux lifts his ass. He wants it. He needs it. But Kylo seems to find it necessary to rub his massive cock into the cleft of his ass for a bit, just to be contrary. Each time he does it he rubs against Hux’s hole, and each time a whimper leaves Hux, before he starts thinking if he should begin to beg. 

It doesn’t come to that. Kylo seems to make up his mind, finally, and he take a deep breath before he starts pushing in. Hux sinks into the pillow, relaxing so the slide is easier. Nothing is easy with Kylo’s girth of course, but Hux takes it until Kylo’s balls are pressing against his ass, and his forehead is on his shoulder. 

Hux’s control is slightly shot through because the moment he has Kylo completely within him he tightens around him, if for nothing else, but to feel him. It punches a moan out of Kylo’s lips, and he bites Hux’s shoulder in revenge. 

“Don’t do that,” he says, voice shaky. It only makes Hux eager to do it again and he does, just to hear the sound again, followed by an amused huff that lands somewhere between his shoulders. 

Kylo’s head is nearer than he thinks because when he turns he’s right there, pressing a kiss against his jaw and cheek. “Move,” Hux says. “I want to come this century.”

Kylo laughs softly. He lifts himself up however, the warmth of his body gone from Hux’s back. Then, only a breath later, he’s slowly pulling out and pushing back in. It’s careful, or as careful as someone who’s drunk and horny can be, but it doesn’t matter. The benefits of having Kylo’s girth is that, whether he wants to or not, his cock is rubbing against Hux’s prostate in a toe curling drag that has Hux clutching his pillow. 

“I can take it, Kylo, damn you. Fuck me,” Hux cracks.

“I know you can,” Kylo replies steadily, setting a comfortably slow rhythm. “I will.”

Hux feels a strange flush over his skin, and wonders if Kylo really will torture him like this. Mercifully, it doesn’t seem to be the case, because his grip suddenly changes on Hux’s hips. It’s strong, unbreaking, holding them as he fucks into Hux hard. 

He allows his cock to slide maybe half-way out before he’s fucking back into Hux. Once he’s balls deep again he grinds for a moment, before pulling out again. He lifts Hux’s ass higher, forcing Hux to bend his back more, and does it again. He strikes Hux’s prostate each time, making the pleasure of it mix with the ache of having someone so big within him. He picks a slow rhythm, perfect for the rough fucking he’s giving Hux. This way, Hux can feel every inch of him, every pass against his prostate, every time when Kylo’s cockhead strikes within him. 

Hux start trembling, unable to control himself. He tightens around Kylo, as the man starts fucking whimpers and sobs out of him, that the longer the fucking goes on, the louder they get. 

Hux is clawing at the pillow, knuckles white. It doesn’t muffle the sounds very well, not at all, because when Kylo shifts his angle and it’s even better Hux is yelling, wanting to both run away and grind back into it. Kylo is deep, he’s too deep. Hux absolutely loves it. He could come like this, just like this, just spread on Kylo’s big cock.

“Come on,” Hux slurs. “Make me come, make me come please--”

His voice gives out when he feels a hand wrap around his cock. He moans desperately into the comforter, feeling tears pool in his eyes. Kylo jerks him off quickly, dirty, as his hips push his cock into Hux with all of his weight behind it. 

Hux sobs as he comes all over Kylo’s knuckles and the comforter, trembling with his whole body. His knees threaten to give out under Kylo’s weight, but he can’t bear to move an inch.

He feels Kylo’s hips stop, before he slides out completely. Hux groans in disappointment, blinking away moisture from his eyes. Before he can have a proper breath, Kylo’s large hand is on Hux’s shoulder turning him around. Hux goes willingly, if nothing else to demand Kylo continue fucking him immediately. 

When Hux’s eyes focus he sees the room is much lighter than before, courtesy of his eyes getting used to the dark, and he sees Kylo’s flush, the sweat on his skin. It’s his damn eyes that get Hux again, deep and strange and all-seeing. 

Kylo pushes his knees apart and slides back into him without a pardon. And Hux lets him and trembles underneath his hands. One lays on his belly where a bulge is almost unnoticeable until he sucks his gut in. The outline of Kylo’s cock is obvious then and he hears Kylo’s curse above him, rhythm staggering only for a moment. His other hand is on his chest and then on his face before Kylo is jabbing his elbow into the pillow next to Hux’s face, and he’s pressing himself against Hux, lips finally finding lips again. 

Hux presses his knees against Kylo’s sides, like urging a horse to go quicker, and his fingers dig into Kylo’s ass. It’s a miracle that Kylo listens. He picks up the pace, fucking into Hux with all of his weight, pushing his cock right where he should. 

Kylo doesn’t stop. He kisses Hux, and he goes slower, thrusts deep within him, but doesn’t stop. 

Hux thinks he’s just chasing after his own pleasure but after a while it’s evident he’s not. Instead, he wraps a hand around Hux’s cock, stroking him back into hardness despite how sensitive Hux is. Then he lifts himself up, grabs Hux’s thighs and starts a brutal pace. 

After a while the borders of pain and discomfort disappear and Hux watches, through hooded eyes, the way Kylo’s eyebrow twitches every time he thrusts in, the way his mouth hangs open for air, the strength within his hands as they grip him, and the lines of his chest muscles leading into the lines of his hips that lead to his cock. Hux watches as Kylo disappears within him, and feels, for some reason, even more intoxicated. There’s a red light within the room from a billboard on the opposite building that flashes every so often. 

“I’m going to come again,” Hux pants, closing his eyes. Kylo is hard inside him, deeper than before, and Hux loves the feeling. 

Kylo speeds up his thrusts after a moment, wrapping a hand around Hux’s cock. He lifts one of Hux’s legs over his shoulder and gets in a better angle. If his legs were on the bed they would be digging into the mattress, but as it is, Kylo holds him open and pinned and Hux comes like that, at the mercy of another. 

His vision swims so he closes his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to linger in the undeniably good sensation of an orgasm. Breathing deeply, Hux slips out of the haze of arousal into the reality of his situation. With cooling come on his stomach juxtaposed with the heating of the central heating inside his room, not to mention the man above him that’s breathing harshly though blessedly not moving yet, Hux’s mind seems to kick-start itself. He doesn’t feel drunk anymore. But then, it rarely feels like you’re drunk until you’re trying to stand up. 

The sight that greets him thaws his impending panic. Hux can still feel Kylo within him, hard pulsing, having not come once for the night. Despite that Kylo hasn’t moved an inch. 

“You alright?” he asks, breath laboured. Finally, Hux thinks. 

His lips are bitten red, eyes blown wide. He’s as attractive as when Hux first saw him, if not more. Hux tends to find personalities addition to physical beauty. Right now, though, he really wants to see Kylo come.

“I’m perfect,” he replies, licking his parched lips. “Now, do you want to bend me how you like it until you come, or will you let me ride you?” 

He sees surprise colour Kylo’s features; the poor sod must have thought Hux would kick him out of the bed immediately, or something similar. Usually Hux would not have even asked but pushed down and had his way but so far Kylo has been nothing but cordial. The ingrained schooling in his mind tells him to return the courtesy. 

Hux is not used to being passive and lying down and just taking it. This whole thing has been a new experience for him, one which Hux regrets will end at just this one night. But it’s what must be. 

He’s preparing himself to get up to do just that: push Kylo down and climb on him. But, as if sensing his intentions, Kylo’s hold on his legs that had marginally relaxed during the break tightens.

“No, let me--” Kylo runs a hand down Hux’s thigh, “just. Let me make you feel good.”

“That’s a two-way street,” Hux replies, but he already knows he will do whatever Kylo asks of him. How often do you find someone so eager to service you?

“You can do whatever you want later,” Kylo says, starting to move slowly. He’s trembling, feeling it far too much than Hux is. But that’s understandable. 

Later sounds promising as well. Hux sighs, allowing himself to relax, lazy and comfortable in his own bed. “Fine but just give me a minute--” Hux is reaching for the nightstand with wipes in it when he feels Kylo’s cock fill him up once again, the strength of the trusts pushing him right into the headboard.

-

They end up fucking more times than Hux can count; Kylo’s endurance allows for some pretty spectacular sex but tires Hux completely. He thinks he passes out after Kylo has had his fill, because he wakes up only when Kylo has a wet towel to clean him up. He’s too tired to do anything else but groan and tell Kylo to close the blinds before coming to bed. 

Perhaps if he weren’t so completely fucked out of his mind he would have realised the red flag. But as it is, when the room is suddenly filled up with darkness and Kylo’s warm body cradles his, he thinks about nothing else but falling asleep.

In the morning, he wakes comfortably warmth and pleasantly surprised he’s remembered to lower the blinds. It’s pitch black in the room and he quite likes it that way. It’s perhaps because of the lack of light that he doesn’t realise there’s another body in his bed. At least not until he rolls over and almost smacks Kylo in the head. As it is, he stops himself just before his elbow meets Kylo’s face, heart suddenly in his throat. 

Worse, he hears stomping in front hallway, Phasma’s distinctive decided step stopping just outside his doors. Hux grabs his phone to see what time it is and knows immediately that nothing will stop the woman from busting in.

It’s late afternoon on a Sunday and Hux has yet to rise from bed. She will hold this over his head for the rest of his natural life. 

Kylo must sense something because he rouses, hand sneaking around Hux’s waist so he can press his chest to Hux’s back.

“Wassrong?” he slurs, still half-asleep. 

Phasma’s knock is a loud three measured sound of a mortifying moment solidifying into existence. She waits, for a moment, before doing it again. 

“Hux,” she enunciates in a way that tells Hux exactly what she’s thinking. “Why is there an extra pair of boots in our foyer?”

Shit, Hux thinks. He thought Kylo would leave before Phasma arrived, not waking to Hux’s greatly amused, and greatly disproving, roommate. 

He feels the man still behind him. “Is that your wife?” Kylo asks, sounding as scandalised and uncomfortable as he can considering he’s just woken up. 

“Worse,” Hux reassures putting his hand over Kylo’s. “My roommate.”

Phasma thankfully stops. But then Hux’s phone is vibrating, and Hux sees the caller ID. Reluctantly, after the third ring, he swipes to the right.

“It’s only years of your long-suffering dish washing that’s stopping me from going into your room,” Phasma declares, sounding far far too chirpy after a long night.

“Why are you even sentient right now?” Hux huffs, pushing his hair out of his eyes and turning onto his back. It puts him face to face with a completely awake and marginally relaxed Kylo. Hux allows his eyes to feast on his face that is, yup still, just as attractive as it had been the previous night. Damn.

“Because I, like a good fuck, got my things and left before anyone woke up with a sudden realisation that they’re not, in fact, gay, single, living alone, and so on. And then I also, like a good fuck, collected my clothes before leaving,” says Phasma. Hux can hear her now in the living room, probably collecting the glasses and the whiskey. 

“You just got here,” Hux accuses. “You totally had a post-fuck brunch.”

“I just woke up,” Phasma corrects. “I was drunk when I got home it was a little difficult to notice what I’m noticing now.”

Dear god, Hux thinks. Thank luck they didn’t fuck in the living room.

“Please tell me you didn’t-”

“I did not,” Hux says quickly.

“Well I got to ask. Because you also said you’d never, ever, bring anyone to the flat and here we are. Or did he leave with no clothes on? I can imagine you being that cruel if it was a terrible fuck. Was he a terrible fuck?”

Kylo’s laughing next to him and Hux covers his eyes in mortification. 

“Quite the opposite actually,” Hux admits. 

There’s silence over the line. Then, a scandalised, “He’s still there!”

“Yeah,” Hux admits. 

He doesn’t need the phone to hear Phasma’s cackling. She sobers up after a couple of minutes. She has met exactly two people Hux has ever slept with and it was because they were together bar-hunting at the time. She knows his taste, old, rich, kinky, and she must remember it too because her laughter dies down to nothing. 

“Shit, should I leave?” she asks. “Or like, pretend to be your sister or wife or something?”

Kylo’s looking at him strangely, eyebrow quirked in question. But Hux just brushes his cheek with his hand, feeling palpitations when Kylo leans into the touch.

“Sorry about this. How about breakfast?” Hux asks him, not believing his own ears. 

“Sure,” Kylo replies, taking Hux’s hand and placing kisses across his knuckles and up his wrist. 

“Hux?” Phasma says, voice gone devoid of any emotion, cold and professional.

“Do you mind if he stays for breakfast?” Hux asks after a long moment. 

He hears something crashing in the kitchen, and it sounds suspiciously like the metal fruit bowl Phasma insists on using. 

“Yes, if you want him to. I mean... I can make food, or we can order?” She sounds incredibly uncomfortable, and it makes Hux laugh.

He hears her mutter something under her breath. He looks at Kylo and grins into the kiss when Kylo presses their lips together.

**Author's Note:**

> And they lived happily ever after :D


End file.
